


First Blood

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Boyd has Willpower, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Behavior, Character Study, Codependency, Implied/Referenced Outdoor Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Tent Sex, but only so much, understated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 05:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Thirty-five years after the end of the events of their meeting, Boyd and Ives meet once more.





	First Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dottore_polidori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottore_polidori/gifts).



> I saw your letter for Yuletide, and I knew I would write some Ravenous for you this year. I hope you like this.

It was the moment that Ives made it clear he intended to kill Boyd that brought everything into sharp relief. It was the desperation of knowing he was running for his life that had propelled him away from Ives at last, no matter the strength of the pull that Ives had on him. He had wrestled the blade away from Ives, and he had stabbed the stronger man in the leg, pinning him to the ground for just long enough. Then he had rolled out from under Ives and stood and ran.

Ives’ laughter had followed him, first echoing through the wilderness, and then reverberating through Boyd’s head when he had gotten far enough away from the physical sound.

The thoughts of Ives would never leave him. Long, long into the evening and the night, Ives would be on his mind--even months and years, oh, the years, after it had all gone to pieces at the outpost. 

He knew without a single doubt that, laughing as he did so often, Ives had allowed him to get away. The more experienced cannibal was stronger and faster than Boyd by several orders of magnitude. Still, Boyd had all the time in the world to consider the man’s motivations and what Ives had assumed would happen to Boyd.

Was Ives sending him to a different flavor of untimely--or timely, as it were--death? Would Boyd succumb to a wound in the woods? 

Who would he eat?

Who wouldn’t he eat?

Boyd wondered for years if Ives thought of him, and how.

In the end, as was his secret wish, he would find out.

*~*~*

Standing strong in the snow those thirty-five years later, Ives was as he had imagined him. Not aged a day, and Boyd could only imagine how many he had felled. 

Finding him was not intentional, but it was far from unwelcome.

To say that he was recognizable in that moment was an extreme understatement. Boyd had thought of him and the way his wounds had healed, the shape of his body with bared shoulders and chest, and how he had experienced such a distinct combination of fear and lust. How they had become tied up in each other, those feelings, until he had realized they were part and parcel of his obsession.

And an obsession it was.

Ives did not immediately recognize him, and how could it be that he would? That was not something that Boyd would expect from the man, and yet his heart hammered a confusing staccato all the same. Waiting, perhaps, for it to happen anyway.

“Ives!” he called, though he could have slipped past without doing so. And his voice had aged along with the rest of him, as he had willed it when he forced himself to overcome his lust for meat.

Still, the note of his obsession was there.

“Do I know you?” Ives asked, but his eyes danced and he smiled slightly. “Tongue got away from you, perhaps?” he asked.

“Boyd,” Boyd said, and watched the smile widen, becoming cat-like.

“Ah. The one who got away, I see.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“The years have not treated you well. My friend.” The last was added in almost a sneer. 

“Did you wonder?” Boyd couldn’t help but ask.

“I suppose. And if so, do you wonder what comes next?”

“I have,” Boyd said.

“I see.” Ives brushed slightly at his eye, almost a mock salute. “I did promise you something, didn’t I.”

“And you’ve kept up with your own promises to yourself,” Boyd said.

“That I have. And you yours, it seems.”

“Yes. I have.”

“I am camped outside of town. Certainly you will come with me this time.”

Boyd knew there was nothing else in the world he was waiting for than that invitation.

He followed Ives dutifully and just behind, without touching him, but with anticipation growing.

“And now, here we are,” Ives said.

Once again it was him, Ives, and a tent on the frontier.

“Yes.”

“Together.”

“You’re as I remembered.”

“And yet you have waited, haven’t you…Mm.”

“I…”

“I will have you now,” Ives said. And Boyd all but fell against him, held up against his still-supple frame.

“Yes,” Boyd said. “I have.”

“I remember your eyes,” Ives said. “I will enjoy them.”

Boyd leaned closer, shaking.

Ives’ kisses were as biting as Boyd expected. Before he reached to begin removing Boyd’s clothes, Ives had drawn blood from Boyd’s thin, aged lips.

Boyd stared openly at this man, falling to the ground inside the tent. 

He let himself be taken.


End file.
